


Make Some Noise

by captndevil



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan Secret Valentine, Captain Swan Secret Valentine 2016, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captndevil/pseuds/captndevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma doesn't hate her neighbour per say, she barely knows him. Killian Jones an irritating, insufferable ass who's far too cocky and confident for his own good but seriously, would it hurt him to keep the shower to a normal time like an actual human being? Before she kills him. Modern!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keep The Noise Down!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little gift for @captnbellamy over on tumblr for the captain swan secret valentines. It isn't ending here I swear - there's a few more parts to come shortly.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- Shauna! xo

It's not that she hates her neighbour.

She hates a lot of people and her neighbour doesn't even come close.

Irritation? Annoyance? Sure. But hatred? Bit of a far stretch.

Emma doesn't really know him all that well, has barely passed him twice in the hallway that separates them and he seemed okay - cocky and confident but was that any different to all the other men out there?

At the present moment, however, she was pretty god damn certain that she did hate him and she was moments away from storming up those stairs and strangling him herself. Consequences be dammed.

Because, seriously? Was having a shower at three fucking am seriously necessary? She doubted it.

Killian Jones was seriously a royal pain in her ass.

Innuendo's always flying from his lips, left right and centre. Honestly, she had more than one reason to want him dead and it was sounding even better by the second.

And that was how Emma Swan ended up marching up to his apartment, furry on her face as she stomped, a growl on her lips.

She stands there knocking for at least two minutes, knuckle knocking repetitively against his wooden door, impatiently as she tapped her foot.

God! Could he hurry up?

She hears a low growl coming from the inside, followed by something that she's sure is supposed to be, "Just give me a bloody minute."

(She still wants to kill him.)

But-

She falters slightly when he answers the door, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed, glaring down at her. That isn't what catches her attention, however. It's the towel that is wrapped loosely around his waist, the droplets of water that is beading down his very muscular chest as it turns out, a trail of dark hair leading south.

(She wants to map that trail of with her lips, her teeth - anything.)

Damn. He just had to be attractive. Didn't he?

She gulps, forcing her eyes upwards and she's met with a dark stare and a smirk that clearly says he knew she was checking him out.

She snarls, gritting her teeth.

"What's with the 3 am shower?" she bites out.

He looks taken back at that, confusion flitting across his face.

"Excuse me?"

Emma narrows her eyes.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

His head tips to the side as though he's trying to read her, eyes flashing over his face before his smile widens slightly, tongue pushing up against his front teeth before he speaks.

"Ah," he says. "The prickly blonde from across the hall." Another grin. "Should have expected you at some point, I suppose, love."

She hates the way he says it, the way he assumes she's a done deal.

She glares, finger pointing towards him for emphasis as she narrows her eyes.

(And crap, maybe she shouldn't have done that, not with the way their skin comes into contact.)

"Just take a shower at a normal time like everybody else in this god damn building," she demands.

Killian for his part doesn't falter, merely grins back at her.

"Why not?" he asks innocent, right hand coming up to rest against the doorway as he leans towards her and she tries not to flinch at the way he smells, the way he's suddenly surrounding her, consuming her.

And god, she needs to get out.

Preferably before she does something stupid. Like jump his bones.

Bad idea, she tells herself. Bad, bad, bad idea, Emma!

"You know why," she growls. "Just keep the shower schedule to a normal time. Okay, Jones? Some of us actually like to sleep."

He says something but she's too distracted by the way his lips move, the way the dimple in his left cheek protrudes to catch it.

"Hm?"

She focuses as he repeats himself and tries to ignore the smug grin on his face.

(It's too big to blame ignorance.)

"How'd you know my name, love?"

She freezes and then shrugs.

"New neighbour," she says. "Just curious," she settles for.

"Didn't know you cared that much," he murmurs.

Her eyes narrow again.

"I don't," she says determinedly. "New York and all that. Didn't want to run the chance of living across the hall from a rapist. You hear all those stories of that girl and she just didn't know. Didn't really want to risk the chance of being killed in my sleep. You know?"

The smile still doesn't move from his lips.

"That I do, love," he settles for saying in return with a raised eyebrow.

It's then that she realises that she came here for a purpose.

"Anyway," she says heavily. "Just keep the shower time down. Okay?"

He hums under his breath and takes a step forward with that god damn infuriating grin on his lips.

"You know what, Emma Swan?" he asks, clearly rhetorical as his blue eyes dance up at her.

And she can't help it, she hums back, eyes glued to his as he steps into her personal space. She's tempted (beyond tempted) to take a step back but she raises her head, staring him straight on as she refuses to be intimidated.

"I don't think I will," he tells her, voice low and husky.

His hand reaches forward for her, fingers twirling around her hair as his eyes quickly scan her form before they land back on hers.

"Especially not if it leads to these," he pauses, "encounters," his accent deliciously curls around the syllables, "With a lovely lass such as yourself, love."

She glares, eyes hardening as her lips press into a firm line.

"Well, love," she says mockingly, her finger twisting around his as he pulls on a long strand of her blonde curls until she bend it sharply, a painful cry escaping him as he immediately drops it.

Her eyes flash up to his as he stares back at her, clearly dumbfounded.

"You better," she finishes, tone threatening.

He's staring back at her, wander in his eyes and she's surprised to see a small smile edging up on his lips.

(Most guys would take that as a blow to the ego.)

(Not him apparently.)

(But again, he doesn't exactly seem out of the ordinary so why is she surprised?)

(Wishful thinking, she guesses.)

"You are a tough lass, aren't you?" he murmurs, eyes bright.

"Keep having showers at 3 am," she starts, a menacing tone to her voice, "And you'll find out exactly how tough."

"Was that supposed to be an innuendo?" he smirks at the thought, "Because let me tell you, Swan, that's how it sounded."

She pokes her finger back into his chest.

"Keep the showers to before 11," she tells him. The or else goes unsaid.

His eyes gleam at the unspoken challenge, his lips parting as his thumb presses over his chin and his teeth sparkle in the dark light.

"We'll see," he murmurs.

She wants to fight him, she does. Believe Emma, she really does.

But it's got to be nearly 4 am at this point and she's beyond exhausted - chasing down guys who refuse to pay will do that to you, but still - so she gives in, sighing loudly. Besides, she has no doubts that she can prove him wrong at any other time of day. And it's not like he's going to be taking any more showers tonight. So, at least she can't get a few hours sleep.

"I guess we will," she murmurs back though it's less soft than his and she's glaring (albeit tiredly) at him.

He smirks.

"Then, I guess I'll be seeing you soon, my dear, Swan."

She's still glaring at nothing as she turns around, a huff on her lips as she storms back to her own place.

She hears a loud chuckle echoing throughout the hallway even as she reaches her handle.

"Swan?"

Her head turns, eyes catching his as his eyes stare back and there's more than a tint of mischief dancing in them and when he smirks, she's honestly half expecting the innuendo to fall from his lips.

"I hope you sleep well," he tells her, which is innocent enough so she shrugs.

"Thanks," she says though it's weary.

And she knows why when he stretches, a low groan escaping his lips as his head tips backwards, exposing the length of his throat that has her thighs clenching together and then his towel slips a little bit too far down.

Her eyes widen and she knows if anyone was watching, they must find the entire situation comical.

His head suddenly snaps back up and her eyes suddenly flash back up to his, gulping as she tries to pretend she wasn't suddenly checking him out.

Then, the bastard winks - he actually winks - at her before his lips part.

"I'll be seeing you sooner rather than later," he tells her again, that false innocence back in his tone. "I do intend to discover how peaceful," his lips curl around the final word sinfully, "your much need sleep will be, Swan."

A slammed door is the only response he gets.

(She gets all the way back to her room, the sight of him half naked permanently etched in her brain as she chucks her boots into the corner before she practically collapses into her bed before something sinks in.)

(How the hell did he know her name?)


	2. The Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the second part of the cs valentines day gift for the lovely @captnbellamy over on tumblr!

The second time she sees him isn't at all to do with his unacceptable shower times, believe it or not, but is more to do with her friend and her friend's new husband, David, (more like a brother to Emma, if she's honest with herself and she loves him like one).

She goes to their house on Sunday evening for dinner like she does every week, apple pie in her hands as she waits patiently at the door.

"Hey," she starts, not looking up as she waltzes into the apartment. "I brought-"

Her eyes widen at the unexpected person who she'd been rambling to who coincidently was completely not Mary Margaret or David.

"You!"

He smirks.

"Hello, love," his tongue curls around the syllables with purpose, that dark look in his eyes. "Fancy meeting you here."

Honestly, she's very - extremely - close to strangling him when her two friend's come walking in.

"Emma," Mary Margaret grins, her eyes flickering to Killian's. "I see you met Killian."

"We met previously, actually," Emma retorts, her eyes hard.

"That's right," she grins. "The two of you live in the same building, right?"

Killian's eyes don't falter from hers, following her every movement but Emma shoots a glare at her best friend, recognising the tone. It wasn't purposeful... right?

"That's correct," Killian murmurs, just as David comes up to stand next to him.

"Come on, Jones," he says jovially, arm clasping around his shoulder, "Dinner's almost ready."

And still, his eyes never leave hers as she goes out of her way to avoid talking to him, to avoid any physical contact as she glares at Mary Margaret.

"We're not done talking about this," she warns her friend as they fall into step behind Killian and David.

Mary Margaret merely smiles at her, the one that is so full of hope and positivity that she wants to murder her, and shrugs, humming under her breath with a soft look in her eyes that has Emma judging her sincerity.

"I wouldn't doubt it for a second," she tells her.

But then David is suddenly at her side, arms stretched for a hug which she returns softly, and Emma doesn't have a chance to broach the subject again, especially not when she is very pointedly ignored.

At the table, Killian is placed on her right which she notices completely, his leg pressing into hers, thigh against hers, with his scent surrounding her and she's cursing the two idiots in the room. Though, which two the idiots are is up for debate, considering she really, should have seen this coming. She'd just told Mary Margaret about him, literally, two days before, about the irritating neighbour who kept her up at all hours so honestly, it was more than expected for her friend to do something like this.

Wanting Emma to find true love and all that. God. Who could really harbour that much positivity? It was beyond irritating and she knew that.

She tries to ignore him, eyes glaring down at her food as she pokes her food about on her plate.

She must have missed something, she muses, with everybody's eyes on hers.

"I was just asking," David pauses, "When you met Killian?"

"Thursday," she answers shortly and Killian chuckles, hand reaching up to scratch that spot behind his ear that she will completely not admit she finds so endearing.

David frowns but she feels Killian's eyes on hers, feeling as though he's burning a hole into her skin.

"Afraid I vexed her highness," Killian answers and when her head snaps up to glare at him, there's mirth dancing in his blue eyes as he stares back at David. "My shower times are something of an inconvenience," he clarifies.

"Well, if you didn't shower at 3 am like a normal person..."

He merely grins, his left dimple protruding as his eyes gleam back at hers with glee.

"I thought we went over this the other night, sweetheart," he tells her, "Not a normal person," another pause. "I'm extraordinary."

She snorts with an eye roll.

"And there's that extended sense of self worth," she snips.

"Most people call it confidence," he counters.

"Nope," her lips pop on the last digit. "You're just a cocky bastard."

Killian doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, leering towards her with a smirk.

"You love it," he retorts with a wink - and seriously, damn him all to hell.

There's a retort on her lips, an insult probably when a cough interrupts them and she practically jumps away from him, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

"Well," David coughs, "I can see the two of you are getting along just fine."

Killian's eyes are still on hers.

"Not as well as I'd like," he retorts.

David smirks and Mary Margaret grins.

"Maybe you shouldn't be such a monumental asshole, then," Emma suggests, sarcasm coating her tone.

He doesn't comment, just widens his smile ever so slightly as his eyes flicker back over to Mary Margaret's.

"David tells me the two of you managed to paint the nursery?" he says politely, voice raising at the end in his question and Emma wants to groan at the comment, knowing she'll never leave now if she wants to show her all the new things she's recently bought for the baby on the way.

"Yes," her eyes light up. "Oh, Emma," she says, "You have to see it!"

Honestly, she's killed him several times over. In her mind, anyway.

"Of course," she gets out between clenched teeth.

(And well, if she delivered a kick to Killian's thigh under the table and he covered it over with a small cough, eyes glaring into hers, no one needed to know.)

(Except David, if the knowing look he gave her was anything to go by.)

Throughout dinner, she finds out that David and Killian work together. Somehow. Killian works for his company anyway (and honestly, she's still not all that sure what David does), but he works down at the docks. Something about ships, apparently. Not boats, as she coincidently finds out.

"Ship, Swan," Killian corrects and she almost jumps back at the passion in his eyes. "And she, ships are always referred to in the female."

She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Jones."

(After she pointedly ignores the looks she receives from Mary Margaret and David.)

But nothing escapes that later, when she goes to say goodbye, after Mary Margaret had practically forced her to sit still while she went over what she'd bought for baby Nolan, she talks to her, that serious look on her face as she glares back at the blonde.

"He seems nice," she tells her.

Emma hums uncomittedly.

"You could mind your manners," Mary Margaret instructs her and Emma snorts.

"He's not nice," she corrects. "He's a cocky womanizer."

This time, Mary Margaret smirks with a cocked eyebrow.

"So, that's what bothers you. That he sleeps around a lot."

Emma huffs, arms crossing over her chest but doesn't dignify it with a response, getting up to leave when Mary Margaret calls her back.

"Yes?"

"I almost forgot," she says quietly. "David told Killian you'd give him a ride, since you live in the same building, and he walked over here."

The only response she gets is a glare to her back as she walks away.

"You're welcome," Mary Margaret calls over her shoulder as she walks back into the living room.

"You won't be saying that when I call you for help in me burying his body," she mutters.

"You wouldn't," Mary Margaret sing songs.

And damn her, she's right.

Like a good friend, she does give him a lift. However, she ignores him all the way there, eyes glued to the road but when they get into the lift together, that's when the awkwardness seeps through the air.

"They seem nice," he offers.

She snorts.

"Funny. They said the same thing about you."

"I am nice," he defends and she raises an eyebrow.

"You have a funny way of showing it."

And then the elevator pings, signalling that they're on their floor. Honestly, she's all good to ignore him again when he grips her arm, hard enough to stop her in her tracks but soft enough that it won't leave marks.

"You've got me all wrong," he tells her, eyes on hers.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

He nods.

"We got off on the wrong foot," he tries again, releasing her arm from his grip as his lips quirk upwards and pauses for a second. "How about we start again? Since you will be seeing a lot of me from now on, living in the same building and all that."

She doesn't particularly want to but he is right and working with David, it's not like she'll ever get rid of him.

If you ask her later, she'll blame it on the glass of wine she had at dinner, as inaffective as one glass is, to the reason why she nods, breathless at the feel of him up close, his chest practically pressed into hers when he smirks.

"Good," he smiles, one that actually looks genuine, to her at least.

He leans towards her and she really thinks he's going to kiss her but he bipasses her lips, his lips landing on her left cheek in a lingering kiss that has her fingers clenching up into a fist. His breathing comes out unevenly against her ear and she shivers at the warmth, at the feeling of his scent surrounding her and honestly, she's quite sure she's going to kiss him when he pulls away.

His eyes flicker down to her lips when he eventually pulls away, that small smile still on his lips as he scratches that damn spot behind his ear.

"It was a pleasure," he says softly. "Emma."

He pulls away, altogether, and she's left watching as he walks into his apartment, stood there, paralysed.

God. She was so screwed.


	3. Drunken Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter three is officially here! wow. i'm actually getting pretty decent at updating regularly, aren't i? yay! i feel like there's going to be about six chapters for this one so we're about half way there! hope you enjoy this chapter, everyone. but, not sure if you've heard of this - i'm participating in the cs big bang which means i have 50k words to write for a fic in not such a long time so updates will be rare for a while. sorry guys!
> 
> \- shauna! xo

The third time she sees Killian Jones is by far the most unexpected and equally as mortifying.

At least, that's what sober Emma has determined.

The evening before, Ruby, rather spontaneously decides that herself, Emma and Mary Margaret could go clubbing and of course, Mary Margaret as usually bows out (damn her and her excuse of having a baby) but as usual, Emma is not quite that lucky. And so, she ends up out. All night. And if she's honest it's all a bit of a blur.

She remembers dancing and tequila. Lots and lots of tequila.

She remembers innuendo's, a flash of blue eyes and an infuriatingly gorgeous smirk vaguely somewhere in the drunk haze and she swears she can even hear his voice and the way his tongue curls around his words carefully in that sinful accent of his - though, she was quite sure he put it on a bit. She bet, it was to impress her. Mostly. It was more than obvious by this point that he wanted to get inside her pants.

And, so when she startles with a wake, her mouth parting on a loud groan as her hand reaches up to grasp at her head, she's not all that sure that she didn't dream the entire thing.

Her mouth is on fire, she realises, as she sinks back into the overly comfortable mattress, her fingernails digging harshly into the skin of her forehead and honestly, she's quite sure she would rather be dead at this very moment.

Especially, so when she practically jumps five feet into the air when she hears a low chuckle, followed by the vibrations as the mattress wobbled slightly when a figure joined hers onto the mattress.

"Well," the voice says cockily, "When I said I'd get you into my bed, this isn't quite how I'd imagined it."

Her eyes fly open to see a pair of unfairly blue eyes staring down at her.

"Killian," she groans, barely resisting the urge to face palm.

He smirks.

"In the flesh."

She glares.

"What are you doing here?"

The man in question snorts and shoots her an eye roll (god, he was dramatic).

His hand pats the bed lightly as he raises his eyebrows.

"Not to complain or anything, love," he starts, voice low and quiet as though he knows she won't be able to handle anything else and really, he probably does. "But you are in my bed."

Her forehead crumples as she mulls over those words and then she groans, dropping her head back against the pillows when the movement creates a dull pain in her head.

Really, it takes way too long for the words to register with her - longer than she's comfortable with anyway.

So, when she jumps up with a start, headache and dry mouth forgotten and her eyes widen, she barely notices the grin that spreads on his lips. Her own eyes are focussed on glaring at him, no matter how much it hurts.

She crosses her arms over her chest on a loud huff, hip popping to the side as she narrows her eyes.

"What the hell am I doing in your bed?"

His smirk widens if that's possible.

"Well," he licks his lips in that sinful way of his, "Where would you like me to start, love?"

His tone is light hearted, clearly meant as a joke but her glare and stance don't falter as she stares back at him.

He sighs at her glare.

"You are in my bed," he repeats, though his tone is soft and lacks any real annoyance. "I'm not the one in the wrong here, sweetheart."

Though it hates to glare, she continues and huffs at the endearment.

"Not your sweetheart," she corrects.

"Right," he nods. "Sorry, love."

Honestly, if she could murder him mentally, he'd be fifty feet under and he knows it too.

He merely grins.

"You mauled me," he says suddenly and she chokes (on what? she's not quite sure) but she does nonetheless.

"Excuse me?"

Killian's smirk keeps growing wider by the second.

"Here I was," he sighs as though it's such a hardship, "Being good, myself, and staying in for the night and then there you were, knocking on my door - very loudly I might add, we do have neighbours, Swan. When I eventually opened the door, there you were, pressing yourself so sinfully against me. What's a man to do with a woman rubbing herself up against him like that?"

Her eyes widen as she splutters.

"You-we - I?"

She doesn't seem to be capable of full sentences but Killian merely shakes his head firmly.

"No," he says carefully. "Not in the state you were in, Swan. I do pride myself on being a gentleman."

She snorts at that.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity reflecting through his features.

"But," he continues, "I wouldn't not be open to a repeat performance, considering you were sober, after all."

There's heat - a whole lot of heat - behind the sentence that she ignores as her eyes focus on him.

"And that's it?"

As embarrassing as drunk Emma practically throwing herself on him, she can deal with it.

He shrugs.

"Took me a while to convince you to sleep," he tells her. "You're quite the amusing one when you're drunk do you know that, lass?"

She rolls her eyes.

"I'm more than aware of how I get when Ruby gets me high on tequila."

"Now that I'd love to say," he leers forward, eyebrows raised.

She snorts, eyes rolling and chucks the first thing she finds at him - it happens to be a pillow and though soft, will do for now.

"Perv," she comments though it lacks any real heat.

"You love it," he retorts with a wink before he's moving, jumping up from the bed and she could punch him from the way he jostles her and the mattress beneath her but she's concentrating on dulling the headache.

"That should help," he nods to the water on the side of the desk and her heart flutters at the sweet thought as her eyes meet his once more and she knows they must softened quite a lot. "Along with the aspirin."

She notices the tablet and smiles softly.

"Thank you," she tells him.

He nods.

"Now," he grins, "Might I interest you in breakfast, m'lady?"

He bows dramatically and that has her laughing, head dropping backwards, despite the headache as she picks up the aspirin. She hums underneath her breath.

"Depends," she grins, "Am I going to get a full cooked English breakfast?"

Killian smirks right back.

"Whatever the lady wishes."

He's almost out the door, hand lingering on the door knob when she calls him back.

"Killian?"

He hums, giving her a nod.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure that's all that happened last night."

He seems to hesitate slightly and that's enough for her to realise he's hiding something but then he's shooting her that boyish grin of his and she forgets what she was thinking. She hates that he has that effect on him.

"I told you, Swan, apart from the trying to get into my pants situation, you have nothing to feel embarrassment over."

So, she sits at the table with him, matching grins on their faces as they eat together.

But, still, she can't help but think he's keeping something from her.

Seriously, though, what could she have possibly done last night that she'd regret that much?


	4. The Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this one is nearly over now, and i hope to have it all completed in the next couple of weeks of so. it wasn't supposed to be a long one and i did hope to get it finished quickly, but school got in the way, a lot! also, this chapter is being split into two parts, so to say, since it got so long. i'll have the next one up soon, promise!
> 
> anyways, i hope you all like this chapter! a flashback to emma's 'drunken night', so to speak.
> 
> \- shauna! xo

 

_Honestly, Emma's not all too sure why she still lets Ruby drag her out to nightclubs all the time._

_She is an adult, for christ sake, and she really needs to learn to put her foot down._

_Nonetheless, she's almost completely hammered by the time she sees Ruby leaving with a guy she's never seen before and she rolls her eyes at the typical Ruby like behaviour, and with Mary Margaret long since retired home to David, she's left to catch a taxi back to her apartment._

_She stumbles inside the yellow car, her instructions to where she lives and she hums as the taxi driver finally pulls outside of the building._

_"$8," he tells her, and she's taken off guard by his accent._

_He's British she realises with a start, and it's so similar to Killian's, and it's that realisation that makes her decision when she stumbles up the stairs that she avoids her room completely, and goes knocking on Killian's door instead._

_It takes him a few minutes to answer, and she hears him grumbling under his breath._

_By the time he makes it to the door, she's swaying unsteadily against the wall, the multiple shots catching up to her._

_His eyes are wide when he opens the door and she stares, her own eyes wide, as he wipes the sleep from his eyes (he was obviously asleep) but that it isn't the main thing that she notices._

_He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, that hang loose on his hips and she bites her lip, even in her drink induced state at the lack of his shirt._

_His eyebrows furrow as he registers her appearance._

_"Emma?"_

_She's too busy ogling him (and she will deny that later) to respond to him._

_He repeats himself, "Emma?"_

_She snaps her head up and she goes towards him with a lazy smile on her lips but she's full of alcohol and the six-inch heels she'd decided on wearing that night weren't exactly helping, either, and so, she goes crashing straight into him._

_Killian lets out a loud huff as his arms automatically curl around her._

_"Easy there, love," he murmurs, though she hears the confusion laced in his tone._

_She sighs into the skin of his neck and she catches the goosebumps that it raises._

_"Killian," she mumbles, but it comes out far more slurred than she intended it to._

_She can almost feel the frown before it appears on his face and Killian takes an unsteady step backward, keeping her at arms length with his grip on her shoulders._

_She blinks as she looks up at him, and she finds his features scrunched up slightly, his eyebrows furrowed._

_"You're drunk," he concludes, but she sees humor in the way his lips quirk up softly._

_She rolls her eyes as she shrugs._

_"Just a little."_

_He sighs dramatically, and he goes to take a step towards her again, "Is that so, love?"_

_She nods, a silly grin on her lips._

_He raises his left eyebrow, and gestures into his apartment._

_"Then, why don't you walk in a straight line and sit on the sofa?" he requests, as though he knows she'll fall over and he probably does, from the smell of alcohol on her breath._

_Emma merely huffs, and rolls her eyes once more before she goes to follow his instructions._

_"Fine," she glares at him briefly, but it's mostly playful._

_And, she takes two steps before she almost falls flat on her face._

_Killian's already running to her before she manages that, however, but she hears him chuckle at her predicament and she suddenly wants to punch him. His arms wrap around her before her face can hit the floor, and he pulls her back against him._

_His laugh vibrates against the soft skin of her neck and she feels his lips quirk upwards._

_"I thought you weren't drunk?"_

_She glares in front of her, though she knows he can't see it._

_"Shut up," she mumbles._

_He laughs again and shakes his head._

_His left arm wraps around her waist as he guides her arm around his neck, and he steps towards her._

_"Come on then, drunky," he tells her, his accent thick and he helps her towards the living room, until she can drop onto the black sofa._

_She plops down and he takes a step back, to find her staring up at him._

_"I'm not drunk," she still protests._

_He grins._

_"Still protesting, love?"_

_Her lips twist mockingly._

_"'M not drunk," she mumbles as she relaxes back into his cushions. "Just a little tipsy."_

_He shakes his head in a way that tells her he doesn't believe her for a second, and she glares at him for a moment before he shoots her a charming smile._

_"Stay here," he instructs her, before he goes missing, but then he's back in a second, with a glass of water in his hand._

_She takes it when he offers her it._

_She beams up at him._

_"Thanks," she tells him, quietly._

_He nods._

_"You're going to have a killer hangover in the morning," he tells her, as he takes her in, and the way she seems to smiling goofily up at him._

_He was under no illusions that sober Emma was never this happy and smily._

_She glares at him again, though it's lessened by the way her lips seem to want to turn into a smile._

_"Told you, Jones," she grumbles. "'M not drunk."_

_He smirks._

_"Sure, love."_

_He plops down next to her, and reaches for the remote. When he turns back around, however, she's much closer than before, and her eyes are narrowed._

_"You're an ass," she tells him._

_He grins._

_"So you've said. On multiple occasions, actually."_

_"I apologised for that," she reminds him._

_"Yet, here you are, still calling me names," he teases._

_He can't help it, she's so outgoing and not as closed off as she usually is. He plans on taking advantage and getting to know her a little bit more, if she will so allow him to._

_She huffs, and her arms cross over her chest._

_"I can't help it if you're being an assnole."_

_He chuckles, again, his eyebrows pushing together._

_"What was that, love?"_

_"An assn-, ass-. Ugh," she throws her arms up in the air. "You're that, you know what I mean. I just said it."_

_His smile widens, deepening his dimples. He can't help it, she's so endearing this way._

_Her head turns to the side slightly and she leans forward._

_"Oo, Netflix."_

_She's got a big grin on her face and Killian shakes his head at how quickly she seemingly gets distracted._

_He hands the remote to her and he smiles, a genuine one, when she snuggles into him, her head nestling against his neck. He gulps, however, when her other hand drops down to his lap, and she curls her fingers around his thigh._

_"Orange Is The New Black," she grins, humming happily. "I haven't seen this one."_

_He chuckles, shaking his head, as she hits play, and he waits a few minutes until he speaks again._

_"Why did you come here?" he asks, innocently enough he thinks because she did decide to drop by his apartment and she did wake him up._

_Not that he minds, however. He'd never mind spending time with Emma._

_Emma's fingers freeze on the patterns she was drawing on his thigh, before she shrugs and continues._

_"Yours is closer than mine," she tells him, and her head twists to look at him. "Mine seems forever away."_

_He smiles at her answer and hums._

_His arm stretches over the sofa at the back of her head and watches Emma as she watches the television programme. He catches the way her eyelids seem to droop and knows it won't be long before she falls asleep._

_Killian, however, is quite wrong, because she suddenly bounces on the sofa, her eyes bright as she stares up at him._

_He raises an eyebrow._

_"Yes, love?"_

_She licks her bottom lip and he catches the way her eyes flicker to his red lips and he suddenly has a bad feeling about this._

_"That's not the only reason," she tells him._

_His eyebrows furrow._

_"Then, what is?"_

_And instead of answering, she surges forward and locks her lips with his in a searing kiss, leaving him speechless once again._


	5. The Incident - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy cs au week, guys! i didn't think i'd have this one done, but i do so yay! and for day three which is favourite tropes and if you talk to me at all on tumblr, you know i adore the neighbours!au / enemies to lovers!au, and i suppose this fic is a mix of the two. also, this fic is nearly over know, maybe two or three more chapters, we'll see how long it takes me to finish the story.
> 
> also, think of this chapter as a part two to chapter four (the previous one), as it continues to show what happened during emma's drunk incident.
> 
> sorry, that it's taken so long to update, so i hope you all like this one. feel free to come stop by my tumblr for the cs au week; captnklaroline.
> 
> \- shauna! xo

 

_Emma's enjoying how flustered he is, how his cheeks and the tops of his ears turn a bright red, it makes her smile, as she hums underneath her breath. It's a far cry from the arrogant bastard who flirts with her on a daily basis._

_(Not that it's not appreciated, though, because boy does she appreciate him, and wow, admitting her attraction to Killian Jones? She must be drunk.)_

_Her hand travels down to his thigh, almost unnoticed by her. But apparently not by Killian, when he freezes slightly before relaxing underneath her touch. Her fingers tap against his clothed thigh, her fingernails scratching against him slightly, and smirking at the way the muscles in his thigh seem to clench._

_(Seems she wasn't the only one unaffected by their close proximity.)_

_"Why did you come here?" he asks._

_And it's that what gets her thinking, because why did she come here? Her apartment isn't too far away, that she couldn't make it. Even if she does admit that she's a teeny bit tipsy._

_She doesn't think he minds, however. At least not with the way he's smiling up at her, that genuine flick of his lips, that she really wants to kiss, as he reaches up with his left arm to scratch that damn spot behind his ear that she finds all sorts of adorable._

_(She really wants to kiss that spot, too.)_

_Her fingers freeze on the patterns she was drawing on his thigh, and her lips press together, as she wracks her alcohol-induced brain for some sort of excuse, that doesn't come close to admitting that she has the hots for him, because she totally does._

_"Yours is closer than mine," she finally tells him, which isn't a lie, and she twists to look at him. "Mine seems forever away."_

_He smiles down at her knowingly, and she already knows her cheeks are red._

_Emma's eyes turn back to the television screen, because she loves this program, no matter how hot he was. She registers when his arm stretches over the sofa at the back of her head, and she gulps loudly, praying that he can't hear it. God, she had it bad._

_God, she had it bad._

_She feels his eyes on her as she glares at the television screen, though, at this point, she honestly has no idea what is happening. Her eyes, however, suddenly feel heavy, and her eyelids begin to droop slightly. She shakes her head, a light sigh on her lips, because she doesn't want to let this opportunity pass her by, not for sleep, and not when she finally feels the courage to do what she's been wanting to do for a while._

_(Maybe it was a little to do with the alcohol running through her veins.)_

_Emma suddenly turns towards him, her eyes wide and bright as they stare up at him, and she feels the sofa bounce beneath her, at the sudden movement, and it is leather, so the sound of creaking also follows._

_Killian looks slightly shocked but he shakes it off, and raises an expectant eyebrow._

_"Yes, love?" he asks, in that delicious accent of his that makes her want to jump him._

_She licks her bottom lip and she smirks when his eyes flicker to the movement, and then his eyes return to hers carefully before she catches the movement of his throat as he gulps._

_Her smirk widens._

_Got you._

_And so, she takes a chance._

_"That's not the only reason," she tells him, her tone light, and serious, but all so purposefully seductive._

_She had to give him some indication as to what she wanted, didn't she?_

_His eyebrows furrow, as those too blue eyes of his stared up at her in confusion._

_(And screw it, she wants to kiss that spot too.)_

_"Then, what is?" he asks, and his tone is so adorably confused, that she knows what she has to do._

_So instead of answering him, she surges forward and locks her lips with his in a searing kiss, blocking him from speaking once again._

_(Well, she did like to render him speechless.)_

_She feels him freeze, as she moves forward, until she's straddling him, and her hands can travel up to his neck, to fist into those dark locks of his at the nape of his neck. It barely takes a beat, until she feels him responding, surging forward against her._

_She sighs against him, a "Finally", muttered out against him._

_He responds in kind, his lips frantic against hers, but all so soft, as they move against hers._

_His right arm sneaks out, until he can wrap it around her waist, and his warm hand travels up her clothed back, and she grumbles against his lips, wanting more. So, she moves against his lap, grinding against his erection (and honestly, she's quite impressed at how quick he's ready to go), and her tongue swipes out against his lower lip, demanding entrance._

_However, she isn't granted it, and Emma is surprised, more than surprised, when Killian is detaching his lips from hers._

_His eyes are wide as he stares up at her, and he looks so innocent._

_"Wha-what are you doing?" He clears his throat._

_Emma raises an eyebrow._

_"I thought that was much obvious," she tells him, dryly._

_Killian is already shaking his head, before she's even finished, and before she knows it, he's deposited her back on the leather sofa and away from his lap._

_"You shouldn't have done that," he mutters._

_She watches him, with rapt interest, as he stands up, his hands smoothing down his bottoms, at the tops of his thighs, and she's reminded of where her hands were not five minutes previous._

_She raises an eyebrow, once more?_

_"And why not?"_

_She pauses for a minute._

_"I wanted to," another pause as her eyes drift down his form with a barely restrained smirk, when she catches sight of him, still reading to go, in his bottoms. "And I'm fairly certain you do too."_

_He shakes his head._

_"Irrelevant," he mutters under his breath._

_And Emma's suddenly very confused._

_"I would think that's very relevant," she sniffs._

_She sits up properly on the sofa, her right leg crossing over her left, as she crosses her arms over her chest, and she suddenly feels like an idiot because no means no, anybody knows that. Maybe, she's too late. Maybe, he's found someone. Or maybe he just isn't interested anymore._

_Because he never failed to indicate that he was very interested before._

_She doesn't even realise she's speaking out loud, but by the look on Killian's face, she must be, because he's suddenly shaking hs head, very frantically._

_"No no no no," he starts, quickly. "No, that's not-" he sighs, breaking off. "Bollocks," he mutters, "I'm making a right mess of this."_

_She raises an eyebrow, as he looks down at her, and her eyes are starting to droop once more._

_God, she was exhausted. What was the time? And god, she sounded old._

_"You're drunk," he tells her bluntly. "And very tired, if the look of you is any indication."_

_"Just what every girl wants to here," she mutters under her breath, though she's slightly relieved, if he's saying what she thinks he is, because it isn't that he doesn't want her._

_He just shoots her a look._

_"Swan..."_

_She snorts, shaking her head._

_"Haven't you ever had drunk sex before, Jones? It's nothing to get your panties all twizzled."_

_His eyes seem to darken at that._

_"Not with you," he says firmly. "I don't want it be like that with you."_

_Now, she's the one that's left speechless, and she really doesn't know what to say._

_"Killian-"_

_He's already shaking his head, shoulders turning into a shrug, and then he steps forward towards her._

_"Come on, Swan," he sighs. "You're exhausted. Let's get you into bed."_

_She raises an eyebrow at that, because her bed is across the hall, as he steps forward and bends down to her to pick her up in her arms, and she yelps when he lifts her up._

_"I can carry myself home," she grumbles._

_He grins, a lighthearted thing._

_"No worries, love," he tells her, a light chuckle on his lips. "I've carried rum barrels heavier than you."_

_She slaps him on the chest at that remark, though it lacks heat, and her eyes flutter, eyebrows pushing together, as he walks them towards his room, and the expression doesn't falter when he suddenly deposits her on his bed._

_"I can go home," she says slowly, her eyes staring down at the black throw._

_He's got a peaceful smile on his lips when she looks up._

_"Nonsense," he admonishes, shaking his head. "I'm a gentleman," he tells her. "You sleep here, I'll take the sofa," he insists, and she suddenly feels a pang of guilt, because she's totally inconveniencing him here, and taking over his room._

_She shakes her head, and reaches out to him, then gulps when her fingers lock around his._

_"You don't need to do that," she says, and she's already getting up, but she's unsteady, seemingly forgotten that she'd consumed her fair share of shots tonight, leaving her unstable._

_"Hey, hey," Killian rushes to her side, once more, and then he sits her back down._

_"It's fine," he tells her once he's satisfied that she's not going to fall. "I don't mind. Truly."_

_She finally agrees._

_"Fine," she tells him, a smile plucking at her lips, and she catches the genuine smile he throws her way, and it raises goosebumps all along her skin, creating butterflies in her stomach, that she should be way too old for._

_She watches as he steps around his room, rooting through his draws for something, and then catching the excellent smile he lets out when he finds it._

_"Here," he says, as he folds an item of clothing onto the bed._

_She smiles softly up at him._

_"Thanks," she murmurs._

_He nods, and she watches him bow slightly, and seriously, who the hell was this guy?_

_"I'll take my leave," he tells her, a soft smile lighting up his face. "Goodnight, Swan."_

_He's barely taken two steps away from her when she suddenly sits up, and stumbles out of the bed, clapsing onto his wrist._

_"Wait."_

_He does._

_She smiles softly._

_"Stay."_

_"What?" his eyes are wide._

_"Stay," she repeats, and gestures behind her. "It's a big bed, I'm sure we can share."_

_She expects both an innuendo, and a refusaal, and she's honestly not sure which she'd get, so she's surprised when he merely agrees, nodding, as he sits on the edge of the bed, before he nods in the opposite direction._

_"Bathroom's through there," he tells her, "if you'd like to get changed into something much more comfortable."_

_She smiles at him, thanking him, before she stumbles towards the bathroom, and she (thankfully) doesn't fall on her face, though she does stumble a few times._

_It takes her a few minutes, but when she comes back out, Killian is shirtless, laying back against the pillows at the right side of the bed, that soft, genuine smile still on his lips. Though, his lips soon press together when he catches her appearance._

_She shuts the door behind her, and shrugs at his inquisitive stare._

_"The bottoms were too big," she tells him, as she comes back towards the bed, landing back on it with a heavy thud, and she's suddenly feeling the after effects of everything she'd consumed in the night, a feeling of dizzyness overtaking her, as she lands back towards the pillows._

_She also feels very sleepy._

_She vaguely hears Killian mutter something under his breath as he turns towards her, that sounds oddly like, "You're trying to kill me, woman."_

_She merely smirks as she turns towards him, but he speaks before she can._

_"Goodnight, Swan," he tells her, for the second time that night._

_She smiles in response, a muttered, "Night", to him._

_But she can't leave it there._

_"I'm going to kiss you in the morning," she tells him, almost casually. "And you can't pull away. Or I just might have to kill you."_

_"I look forward to it," he smirks, followed by a light chuckle._

_"Good."_

_"Good," he repeats back to her and then, "Goodnight, love."_

_He shifts closer towards the centre of the bed, and smiles, her eyes already drifting close as s_ _he curls up on his chest, her blonde curls flying everywhere, and she swear she feels him press a kiss to her hair, but she can't be sure because she's asleep in the next second._

_She's also sure he says something else, but she can't be sure what._

_(It was nice to fall asleep in his arms, she could almost get use to it.)_

* * *

**_love it? hate it?_ **

**_what was your favourite part? do you have any constructive critism so i can improve?_ **

**_let me know in a review!_ **


	6. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, everyone! another pretty recent update for me, just over a week later, so yay! on another note, i'm officially marking this fic as complete. it was never supposed to be very long since it was originally one written for my cs valentines giftee over on tumblr, that got out of hand. however, there is an epilogue to come, that i will try to get out as soon as possible. but i do love this verse, so if you have any requests, i could be open to a few more in this verse, come prompt me at captnklaroline on tumblr.
> 
> anyways, here is the sixth chapter. i hope you all enjoy!
> 
> also, i'd just like to apologise for the mess of the chapters. i know it's slightly confusing! but just to point out: this chapter follows directly on from chapter three (the morning after 'the incident').
> 
> \- shauna! xo

 

They don't end up having breakfast in bed, she insists on getting up because, his bed was seriously comfortable and if she didn't, she was afraid that she'd never leave, and it's when she jumps out of said comfortable bed, that she realises she's not wearing pants.

She's literally dressed in one of his shirts, and her underwear, and she probably shouldn't have breakfast with him in that.

So, she snoops. She probably doesn't, but she does.

It takes her opening a few draws to realise where he keeps his pants, and she shrugs into a pair of his grey bottoms, rolling them over so they weren't quite as long, ignoring that they were quite baggy.

(It beats having to walk into his living room, half naked, doesn't it?)

She's about to walk out of the room, her hand pausing on the door knob, when she catches the sight of a glass of cold water on the night stand beside his bed, with two pills laid next to it, and she figures Killian must have put them there sometime before she'd woken up. Her heart thuds in her chest at the thoughtful gesture.

(The adorable idiot.)

She feels her lips twist up involuntarily as she steps forward to grab them, and she sees her phone, plugged in and charming. She guesses he must have done that, too, and the smile widens on her face.

(If she didn't know any better, she'd think she was halfway in love with him.)

And it's that thought that freezes her, in that spot. Her feet scrambling underneath her on the hardwood floor.

_"I'm going to kiss you in the morning."_

_His smirk, as he twisted his head._

_"Whether you like it or not," she'd told him._

_"I look forward to it."_

_His eyes had flickered down to her lips, and she's quite sure hers do the same, as his tongue swipes out against his bottom lip._

_"Good."_

_And then she fell asleep on him. Quite literally._

Her eyes are wide, as the memory comes back to her from the night before, and she remembers what a gentleman he was, how determined he was on taking care of her (and honestly, her smile widens, as she glances towards the bed again).

She bites her lip, in contemplation, as she drinks the water, taking the pills.

Honestly, she suspected that he though she didn't remember what happened the night before, and she doesn't blame him, for trying to cover it up. Not really.

At least, she's trying not to.

She was wasted last night, and coming here probably wasn't the best idea. But, drunk Emma seemed to give her the boost she'd needed, where she and Killian were concerned. They'd been flirting for weeks, since they'd first met, if she was honest with herself, and she'd got to know him a lot better since then, especially in the last few weeks.

He'd proved just as much last night, too, because most men would have taken her to bed, no questions asked, and the fact that he didn't, just confirms her feelings, that she knows have been brewing for a while now, but she has been determined on ignoring.

But now, now she's not sure she wants to. Especially since she knows said feelings are reciprocated.

So, now it was time to face the music, and put on her big girl pants.

(What's the worse that could happen?)

-/-

Turns out, it takes her a few moments to step outside the room, her nerves increasing, because what if he didn't want her?

( _Just a lost little girl, who didn't matter, and didn't think she ever would._ )

She ignores that, the feelings of rejection, as she steps outside, her eyes immediately catching Killian's, as he turns around in the kitchen, stood by the stove not too far from her.

"Emma," he beams.

And she knows she's making the right choice.

She grins right back, as she steps into the kitchen.

He raises an eyebrow, as he leans back against the cupboard to his left, his arm resting on the granite surface.

"Change of clothes, love?"

And she knows it's a nickname he uses for everyone, but it doesn't fail to get the blood pumping through her veins.

She snorts, rolling her eyes at the very obvious way he leers at her.

"Hardly," she shakes her head, as she meets his eyes. "It's only a pair of pants. I just didn't want to stroll around naked in your apartment, Jones. I promise I didn't snoop."

Too much, she adds inwardly.

A light chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head.

"I wouldn't have minded," he assures her.

She raises an eyebrow in response.

"I should hope not," she murmurs.

He shoots her a slightly confused look, but shrugs, and turns back around to face the stove.

"Feel free to take a seat, love," he tells her, with his back turned to her. "Breakfast shall be ready shortly."

She's enjoying the back the muscles in his back ripple as he moves, and the way his biceps flex, as he turns in the kitchen. Honestly, she's just trying to not make her ogling of him too obvious, but she's quite sure she's failing, if the smugness in his tone is anything to go by.

She hums uncommittedly.

He peers at her over his shoulder, a look of mock anger crossing his face.

"Stop checking me out," he admonishes.

She giggles (yes, actually giggles - she's shocking herself, left right and centre today, too), and she shakes her head.

"I thought some payback was in order," she tells him, a grin on her face, as she walks towards the living room.

She hears him mutter "cheeky minx" under his breath, but she lets him have it, as she gets comfortable on his leather sofa, reaching for the remote, immediately turning over to netflix, humming under her breath as she sees Friends appear.

(Her complete go to hangover programme, sue her.)

(Ruby totally teased her about it all the time.)

She's barely five minutes into the first episode, when she hears footsteps behind her, and she sees Killian struggling with three plates, and she jumps up to her feet.

"Killian," she groans. "You should have said."

She goes to reach for one, but e merely frowns at her.

"You go sit down, love," he tells her, seriously. "You're hungover and delicate."

She raises an eyebrow as he places the meal down onto the small table in the room (and he wasn't kidding about the cooking breakfast, thing.)

She snorts, as he sits down, following suit.

"I'm delicate?" she asks him, incredulous.

He merely smiles at her, the dimple in his left cheek showing.

"I'll show you delicate, Jones," she mutters, even as she digs into the food, because damn, he was a good chef.

(She might even just keep him for his cooking skills because she had none in that department.)

"I'm sure you'll forgive me," he grins.

She rolls her eyes, ignoring how very right he is.

A few minutes later, and he's humming underneath his breath, eyes focused on the tv, as she finishes the last of her breakfast, before she collapses back against the soft cushions on the sofa.

"Well," she grins, as she turns around to face him (and it seems she's doing a lot of that around him, now), running a hand through her very messy curls. "I guess you weren't lying about being able to cook."

He smiles back, a soft genuine thing that makes him look so relaxed and boyish, that she suddenly wants to hug him.

"I should hope not," he reiterates her early words.

"Beats living on take out meals," she sighs, shifting on the sofa, until she can pull her knees up, locking her arms around them, as her chin rests on her folded hands.

He raises an eyebrow.

"You can't cook?"

She snorts, shaking her head, and then wincing when she realises that she still has a headache.

"Can I hell," she laughs, her head tipping back slightly. "I burn toast."

He shakes his head in mock appall.

"You're not exactly selling yourself here, darling," he reminds her.

She grins.

"I don't need to. It's just you and me."

She's shocked herself at the way the words come out, and he is too, if the way his eyes widen a fraction, but he recovers quickly, his lips twisting upwards, shuffling more firmly onto the couch.

He nods.

"Always."

And then, "I'd cook for you, you know. If you wanted, I mean."

Her eyebrows raise, furrowing together, because really, she couldn't have asked for a better opening, and the way his cheeks seem to reden, his arm reaching up so he can scratch that damn spot behind his ear.

She gulps.

"Like a date?"

His eyes flash over to hers, and there's something in them that she can't quite read, but they're blue and intense on her face, as he nods.

"Aye."

Her lips twitch, at the comment, and she watches his jaw tick when she doesn't answer, his eyes hardening slightly, as he turns his head slightly, so she can't read him as well, and she frowns.

"If you'd like that," he mutters, his eyes flashing to her once more.

She doesn't answer. Not verbally at least.

She merely shifts onto her knees, locks her fingers into his dark locks, and pulls his face forward to meet her into a kiss, finally.

He's not as shocked as he was last night, and he immediately responds, his lips soft and firm against hers as his head tilts to the side. His tongue swipes out against her bottom lip, and she groans against him. He immediately pounces, his tongue snaking itself into the hot cave of her mouth, and she smiles genuinely into him.

His left arm comes around her waist, pulling her more firmly into him, until she can straddle him, her breasts pressing up against his chest.

She grinds down against him slightly, relishing in the moan he releases into her mouth, and her fingers tighten in his hair, angling his head the way she likes it, and he makes a humming sound against her. His other arm comes up to tangle itself in her very messy curls, his thumb brushing against her cheek, his fingers wrapping around the nape of her neck.

But, eventually they have to part to breathe, and when they do, she's panting slightly against him.

However, when she sees him, she sees he's no better off.

He's staring at her, wide eyed, and his lips are slightly swollen, and he seems to be at a loss for words.

"That was..."

"Me delivering on my promise," she tells him firmly.

She sees his eyes light up in understanding, and she feels his chest quake beneath her in laughter, as her hands rest there.

"Yeah?"

She hums.

"About that date..." she trails off.

He grins, nodding at her to continue.

"How does tomorrow sound?" she asks, biting her lip.

He's already nodding before she finishes.

"Dave and Mary Margaret's anniversary party?" he asks, his head tipping to the side.

His forehead crumples slightly, and she grins, her fingers smoothening out the wrinkles she finds there.

"Mary Margaret would love to know her match-making skills paid off," she tells him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she grins.

"Then I would love to be your date, Emma Swan," he murmurs, charmingly, his eyes shining up at her.

She laughs, shaking her head.

"You're such a dork."

"A dork you want to date," he grins.

She sighs, mockingly, shaking her head.

"Whatever did I get myself into?" she asks, mostly rhetorical.

"I'd be happy to show you," he murmurs.

She shrieks, as he manages to have her underneath him on the couch, pressing her down into the cushions as he grins down at her, his bright blue eyes sparkling, and she smiles right back.

"I thought you were showing me?" she asks him, as his hands pin hers down above her.

"So demanding," he murmurs.

But, then his lips are covering hers, as his hands encourage her legs to wrap around his hips, so she's quite sure she's forgiven. She's also quite sure she hasn't been this happy in quite a while, and she plans of enjoying every single moment of it.

(Ruby was totally going to hear about this tomorrow, too, after all the stories she's had to endure.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly longer than my usual updates, but i couldn't stop writing. hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> did you have a favourite part, or line? let me know in a review, i'd love to here from you!
> 
> \- shauna.


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